قصائد أجنبية

,Observe the weary birds e’re night be done ,How they would fain call up the tardy Sun ,With Feathers hung with dew ,And trembling voices too

,Once, I was in New York in Central Park, and I saw an old man in a black overcoat walking a black dog. This was springtime

,Jamie MacCrystal sang to himself ;A broken song without tune, without words ,He tipped me a penny every pension day .Fed kindly crusts to winter birds

All legendary obstacles lay between ,Us, the long imaginary plain The monstrous ruck of mountains ,And, swinging across the night

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جون مونتاغ، تحتوي القصيدة على ذكريات المتحدث المليئة بالحنين إلى العمل الروتيني الذي أكمله في شبابه.

,We match paces along the Hill Head Road ;the road to the old churchyard of Errigal Keerogue .its early cross, a heavy stone hidden in grass

:All around, shards of a lost tradition From the Rough Field I went to school In the Glen of the Hazels. Close by ;Was the bishopric of the Golden Stone

,Up the ash tree climbs the ivy ,Up the ivy climbs the sun ,With a twenty-thousand pattering ,Has a valley breeze begun

,Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race ,Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours ;Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace ,And glut thy self with what thy womb devours

Silent are the woods, and the dim green boughs are Hushed in the twilight: yonder, in the path through The apple orchard, is a tired plough-boy .Calling the cows home

,I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky ;And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by ,And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking .And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جون مارك جرين، وهي قصيدة حب تتحدث عن المدى الذي سيذهب إليه شخص لآخر.

It’s like living in a light bulb, with the leaves Like filaments and the sky a shell of thin, transparent glass Enclosing the late heaven of a summer day, a canopy .Of incandescent blue above the dappled sunlight golden on the grass

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جون كيتس، يخاطب الشاعر عبر هذه السونيتة نهر النيل مباشرة على غرار قصائده العظيمة مثل قصيدة الخريف أو القصيدة على جرة إغريقية، يبدو أنّ الشاعر قد استيقظ من أحلام اليقظة بسحر النيل وبدأ يفكر في الجمال الطبيعي للنهر.

We were characters in a story .the writer couldn't bring himself to finish When he left us it was late, a child was crying, newsprint smudged on our fingertips

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جون دون، موجهة إلى عاشقة الشاعر، يطلب منها أن تتقبله عند عودته لها، على الرغم من حقيقة أنه سيبدو ويتصرف بشكل مختلف عما كان عليه.   ملخص قصيدة Elegy V His Picture   المعنى من القصيدة هو أنه على الرغم من أنّ طبيعة محبة المتحدث ستتغير، إلا أنه يعتقد بثقة كبيرة […]

?Tis true, ’tis day; what though it be ?O wilt thou therefore rise from me ?Why should we rise, because ’tis light ?Did we lie down, because ’twas night

,As virtuous men pass mildly away ,And whisper to their souls to go Whilst some of their sad friends do say :The breath goes now, and some say, No

First there was some other order of things never spoken .but in dreams of darkest creation

I have a fairy by my side ,Which says I must not sleep When once in pain I loudly cried ”It said “You must not weep

A boat, beneath a sunny sky Lingering onward dreamily –In an evening of July

,Like many folk, when first I saddled a rucksack – feeling its weight on my back the way my spine – curved under it like a meridian 

Elephants walking Along the trails Are holding hands .By holding tails

I ne’er was struck before that hour ,With love so sudden and so sweet Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower .And stole my heart away complete

-Today as we flew the kites the sand spinning off in ribbons along the beach and that gasoline smell from Leuchars gusting across ;the golf links

,No man is an island .Entire of itself ,Each is a piece of the continent .A part of the main

Corona used to be just the name of a beer I’d have a few Twice a year On the odd occasion, I’d go out I wish I could go out

,Bathsheba came out to the sun ;Out to our wallèd cherry-trees ,The tears adown her cheek did run ,Bathsheba standing in the sun

What happened is, we grew lonely ,living among the things ,so we gave the clock a face ,the chair a back

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر يوسا بوسون، وهي هايكو ياباني تصور مشهدًا ليليًا مليئًا برائحة شجيرة تسمى الوستارية.